by Tamsin Ley
The waitress appeared with a bottle and filled Elim’s glass to the brim while he chewed in ecstatic delight. After swallowing, he met Ophir’s gaze, brows lifting suggestively. “My voluptuous mortal offers all manner of decadent opportunities.”
Possessiveness flared inside Ophir’s chest, and he wanted to leap across the table to throttle the djinn for daring to hint at any sort of intimate knowledge of Tanika. Then he realized what Elim was doing—tempting him, possibly with an intention to trap him. Elim had to be looking to escape the deal with Tanika.
Smirking, Ophir pushed the bread basket across the table toward the hungry djinn. “She calls you her poltergeist.”
Eyes hardening, Elim upended the bread onto his plate and sopped up the meat juice with a slice. “I see,” he spoke around a mouth full of food. “Did she tell you her wish, then, too?”
Ophir nodded placidly.
“Interesting. No matter.” He washed down his mouthful with wine. “The mortal’s biological clock is ticking. I’m confident I can bring her around soon. Perhaps you can tell me why you might be skulking around another djinn’s master?”
Ophir sighed and set his glass down, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. It was too soon to reveal he had no master. That he was seeking a portal. Revealing his desire made it a target, easy leverage, just as Elim’s predicament was leverage right now. Yet it wasn’t enough. Ophir needed to strengthen his own position and make Elim more insecure. “It’s good you have your master under control. These humans have such fickle desires, don’t they? So short-lived and unaware of what they truly want, especially the young. How old was Tanika when she made her wish?”
Gaze narrowing, the djinn paused, his teeth buried in a hunk of bread. He set the morsel down and slid a glance left, then right. “I don’t feel the pull of a portal nearby. Where’s your master?”
Blood thrumming in his ears, Ophir narrowed his eyes at the other djinn. “I could ask the same of you.”
“You need to be on your way.” Elim stuffed a full slice of bread into his mouth, making his withered cheeks bulge.
“Is this your mistress’s territory, then? Is she sultana of the realm?” Ophir chuckled, imagining Tanika enrobed in a translucent silk kaftan and bejeweled head-to-toe. He might have to facilitate that fantasy once this was all over. “I do not envy you, beholden to such a master.”
Rising, the djinn flared his nostrils. “Are you saying you have no master? What sort of power have you found?” The djinn’s body rippled and began to fade. With an indignant huff, he scowled down at himself, snatched one final slice of bread from his plate, and was gone, taking with him the bitter acetone scent of his magic.
Tanika didn’t look back as she fled the restaurant and her gleefully grinning djinn. All she could think about was dragging the monster as far away from Ophir as possible, thankful he could only appear in her near proximity since she’d put him into the safe deposit box. If she moved fast enough, perhaps Elim couldn’t even get a clear picture of who she’d been dinging with. How many people had he twisted and warped in an attempt to make them suit her wish? This was why she didn’t date. Why she stayed away from men. Why did her demon have to ruin everything?
During her early years, her demon had only appeared to annoy her, but upon her eighteenth birthday, and her rejection of her initial suitor, he’d begun causing real trouble. Her first apartment building had experienced electrical shorts and constant outages, with his constant reminder that all her troubles could end if she’d only accept the wish. The next place she lived had to be condemned when they found black mold. A duplex she rented had burned to the ground. Then there were the tricks he’d played on poor Mr. Daniels, putting weevils in the flour and replacing the sugar with salt.
Reaching the sidewalk, she realized darkness had fallen, and the street lights cast deep shadows across the cars parked along the curbs. She dug out her cell phone and dialed a taxi, giving it an address several doors away. A year ago, after the incident with Mr. Daniels, she’d marched to the bank and rented a safe deposit box, hoping to restrict her demon’s access to her neighbors through distance. Renting the box had cost every spare penny she had, but she was nervous enough about letting the pendant out of her sight. She wanted to ensure it was as safe as she could make it. Elim had laughed at her plan, threatening to override the security systems and allow thieves into the security vault. With great pleasure, she’d reminded him that even if he did end up in another’s hands, he had nothing to offer a new master; he could grant no wishes until hers had been fulfilled.
Ahead, she spotted a yellow taxi pulling to the curb and ran to meet it. Clambering into the back seat, she gasped out her home address to the driver, still recalling the moment she’d sealed the safe deposit box over the pouch with the necklace. Elim had been standing beside her, cursing. Then his voice had ceased as if she’d flicked off a radio. He’d disappeared as if he’d never existed.
For months, she’d believed herself free of him.
Then he’d reappeared in her kitchen, snarling with fury and breaking every dish she owned. Apparently, the metal box interfered with his ability to use the pendant as a gateway. As dishes crashed all around her, and his hot breath fanned her face, he informed her he’d not be shut away so easily.
The taxi dropped her off outside her condo and she headed through the narrow courtyard. At least the demon’s power had been diminished by the safe deposit box. He could only appear in her immediate vicinity, and couldn’t tarry long enough to cause trouble. At least, not much trouble. It also took him time to recuperate between appearances, so she knew she had a little breathing room now. But running out like that had probably ruined Ophir’s confidence in her as a business partner. She should’ve known this would happen. Sooner or later, the demon always discovered her plans and found a way to pollute them. She was a fool to hope any of her dreams might come true.
Opening her front door, she was surprised by the demon clucking his tongue. “Naughty, naughty girl. You certainly like to dance with the devil. What would your mother think?”
Her stomach roiled. Somehow he always knew how to make a bad situation worse. Usually by invoking her mother. Well two could play at that game. He was always complaining she kept nothing in the house worth eating, hurling her rice crackers and diet protein powders to the floor like a petulant child. The sumptuous restaurant must have driven him crazy jealous. “How long did you get to smell the food before you faded away, poltergeist?”
For once, he seemed unruffled by her jab. “Tell me, what did Ophir offer you?”
Shit. He’d managed to talk to Ophir long enough to learn his name. Had he managed to change him, too? To bend him to suit her wish? Now she could never trust another interaction with Ophir again. She stalked past Elim to the kitchen without answering, leaving the lights off in case he decided to start smashing light bulbs.
“Send him away.” Elim trailed behind, feet making no sound on the scratched linoleum. “I’ll beat whatever he’s offering. Do you know how rare it is to be granted a second wish?”
“I don’t want anything from you. Ever. You’re a monster and I’ll see you in hell.” She wanted to make tea, but didn’t feel like having boiling water nearby if Elim got angry. Opening the fridge, she searched for a diet soda.
“Yet you’ll deal with him?”
She didn’t understand the venom in his voice, but she liked making him angry. “We’re in negotiations.”
“Over what?” His voice was harder than usual. Clipped. Dare she say nervous? Ophir had said he could banish the djinn. Could it be true? This was the first time she ever recalled Elim asking her to send someone away, especially an eligible bachelor.
In the yellow light streaming from the open fridge, she took in the exaggerated lines around his eyes and mouth. Did he look more craggy than usual? His hands were balled into fists at his sides. Whatever Ophir’d told Elim had frightened him enough to make him discount a potential husband. Good. She smirked and to
ok a long drink of her soda. “He wants to invest in the salon.”
“Invest?” The flesh around his eyes twitched. “What does that mean?”
“I imagine he’ll be spending a lot of time around here. He wants to become a partner and help the salon start making money.”
The demon began to chuckle. “He told you he wants to make money?”
She blinked nervously. Ophir hadn’t said he wanted to make money. He’d asked her to be his personal psychic. In spite of the fact that I couldn’t read him. Distrust flared again. “Why, what did he tell you he wanted?”
Elim laughed harder, his wide mouth revealing blocky white teeth. “You don’t know, do you?” He leaned in closer, eyes filled with deep purple fire. “Ophir is a djinn. Just. Like. Me.”
The floor seemed to sway beneath Tanika’s feet, and she groped for a dining chair to steady herself. “Wh-what?”
But her demon didn’t answer. His laughter faded along with his body, and she was left standing in a dark kitchen wondering if she should cry or laugh hysterically.
A djinn? Really? What the fuck? Was she some sort of evil magic magnet?
She fisted her hands into her curls and screamed under her breath. She didn’t need the neighbors calling the cops again. They had often enough while her demon was throwing one of his tantrums. Everyone in the building assumed she was schizophrenic, having violent domestic squabbles with herself.
Flopping into the kitchen chair, she threw her head back and stared at the ceiling. Ophir had arrived at the salon looking for somebody. For Elim? Did djinn make house calls on other djinn? She had no idea. Then there was his insistence that she go out with him. She pressed her thighs together as she remembered his hands all over her body, the wave after wave of indescribable pleasure he’d elicited in her. Was that merely part of some elaborate djinn scheme? For what? To convince her to become his personal psychic?
She laughed out loud, leaning forward to lay her head on the kitchen table. A psychic for a djinn. Hilarious.
Then she bolted upright. Maybe that was double speak for him asking her to be his master? That’s kind of what Mom had been for Elim, using her psychic abilities to sell his wishes to the highest bidder while abstaining from making any wishes herself. Had Ophir been proposing the same kind of deal? A ball of dread enveloped her stomach. No way in hell would she ever agree to that.
But he hadn’t asked for anything like that. He’d offered to banish her djinn. Was that because a person could only be a master for one djinn at a time? Her mom would’ve known. But Mom was dead. She realized she was panting and took another swig of soda, trying to calm her heart. Perhaps not all djinn were like Elim. What if her demon—her djinn—was, like, a djinn felon, or something? Ophir might be a sexy djinn cop, out to capture his man and sweeping the girls off their feet along the way.
She shook her head. You’ve been reading way too many romance novels, Tanika. If Ophir was a djinn cop, he would’ve captured Elim at the restaurant. Unless Elim faded too fast? She had run away fairly quickly.
Dammit. It was time to stop arguing with herself and make a plan. For all she knew, Elim was lying about the entire thing, and Ophir wasn’t a djinn at all. Her demon could be trying to use reverse psychology on her, to trick her into fulfilling her own wish. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d attempted that tactic. She needed to talk to Ophir again. Give him the opportunity to explain his side of things.
Unfortunately, she’d just fled from a date with a guy she knew nothing about. Not a phone number, an address—hell, not even his last name. What kind of idiot was she? Taken in by a set of broad shoulders, sexy chocolate-colored eyes, and a lightning-fast Ferrari. He was probably long-gone from the restaurant by now.
Looking around to be sure she was alone, she opened the cupboard and pulled a box of rice crackers from the back shelf. Beneath the cardboard-flavored disks, she’d hidden a bag of miniature peanut butter cups from Elim’s prying eyes. If Ophir was indeed a djinn, then good riddance. And if he was still interested in investing, he’d return to the salon tomorrow.
Sitting down at the table, she unwrapped the first one of the night and put the entire thing in her mouth. Chocolate solved everything, right?
Chapter Seven
Unsure of exactly what he was after, Ophir tracked Tanika down. The task proved quite easy, even without magic. Her name was unusual enough that a quick Google search, cross-referenced against the city’s DMV records, yielded her home address. Why rush to go back to more companions like Elim when he’d just found a woman like Tanika? Now he stood at her door with a bag of takeout in one hand and a fresh bottle of wine in the other. He pressed the doorbell and waited.
Footsteps vibrated behind the door, then a long pause, as if she was considering pretending to not be at home. No doubt Elim had already informed her of the situation, poisoning her against a fellow djinn. She wants to kill her djinn. The reminder should cool Ophir’s blood, but Elim was kind of a dick—most djinn were. Plus she’s mortal. None of it mattered. He couldn’t talk himself out of seeing her again.
Holding the bag of take out in front of the peephole, he called out, “We never got to finish our meal.”
Another beat of silence, then the bolt clicked and the door swung open, stopping short on the security chain. Through the crack, Tanika’s eyes were round, and her ample breasts heaved a little too quickly. Elim must’ve indeed told her, and now she was afraid. Ophir decided honesty would be the best approach to win her over. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
She seemed to wilt, like a fresh-cut flower in the sun. “So you are a… a djinn?”
For the first time in his long existence, Ophir wished he could answer differently. He had to resist the urge to take her into his arms and apologize. “Yes.”
“Why are you here?”
Again he held up the bag and grinned. “To finish our meal.” Her lips thinned, and he realized he’d been too playful. He dropped his arm, allowing his expression to become serious. “I apologize. I’m here to talk. I swear to you I’ll tell the truth. Whatever you want to know.”
“Why. Are. You. Here?” she repeated.
He took a deep breath, shooting a glance up and down the courtyard before answering. “I came here looking for a portal.” The portal might be what had brought him here, but it was no longer the reason he sought her out. If djinn weren’t immune to their own magic, he might’ve wondered if a wish had brought them together.
The shielding in her eyes faded. Deep within her gaze, he thought he detected a hope that matched his own. “You don’t have one of your own?”
“I’d really prefer not to have this conversation standing in the courtyard. Do you mind if I come in?”
She licked her lips, hesitating only a heartbeat. Then she loosened the chain and held the door wide for him, pointing down the short hallway. “The kitchen’s through there.”
“Thank you.” He brushed by without touching her, forcing himself to be satisfied with only a deep breath of her citrus and anise aroma. Inside, he examined the small apartment. The place was oddly devoid of furniture and decoration other than an overstuffed couch loaded with fluffy pillows and a flat screen TV bolted to the wall. He sifted the air for magic, seeking signs of Elim’s portal. The apartment smelled of anise, just like the salon, but it hadn’t been coated in an oily glamour to dull its appeal.
The kitchen proved to be similarly plain, holding only a small folding table and two folding chairs. On the table sat an open bag of candy, empty metallic wrappers rolled into little balls and piled to one side. One cupboard hung open, revealing two cans of soup and a box of rice crackers.
Setting the takeout on the table, he asked, “Are you moving?”
“What?”
“This apartment looks… barren.”
“Oh. Things just… tend to get broken a lot here at home.”
He clenched his jaw, hating the thought of anything she valued being broken. No wonder she called her djinn a
poltergeist. He opened the Styrofoam carton, allowing the rich aroma of butter chicken to fill the air. “I hope you like Indian food. There was a little hole-in-the-wall place along the way, and it smelled so good, I had to stop.”
She remained standing. “Please, just tell me what you want from me.”
Right to the point, then. The time for pleasantries was over. His heart broke a little that the intimacy they’d developed at the restaurant was over, but perhaps if he regained her trust, she’d let him back in. First things first, however. Once again he sifted the air for Elim. “Is he here?”
She narrowed her eyes. “He’s locked away. Why?”
Her words sent a chill down his spine. Just as contact with metal disabled his casting, a portal completely surrounded in enough metal could be rendered inert. No wonder the other djinn had looked so gaunt. Ophir had assumed it was merely the drain of an unfulfilled wish held open for so many years. Now he realized it had to be because Elim had not only been unable to broker more wishes for energy, he’d not had enough food to replenish his corporeal body. He was literally burning his own magic reserves like a human burned fat. “How did he come to the restaurant?”
“He uses the wish connecting us like a conduit.” Her skin looked a little green at the words. “But he says it takes a lot of energy. Twice in one night is a lot. I doubt he’ll be back again soon.”
Ophir’d never heard of such a possibility; Elim must be a very powerful djinn. Thinking about Elim using her like that made Ophir’s blood run hot. “Is he hurting you?”
She cocked her head, arms crossed. “I believe you said you’d answer my questions. So far I’m the only one answering anything.”
“Fair enough.” He took the other seat and placed a second plastic fork on the empty side of the table in invitation. “I’m looking for a way home, and Elim’s is the first portal I’ve come this close to finding. Probably because your wish is keeping the portal ajar.”
